


Mark Me an Angel

by kiranightshade



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Abigail Hobbs, Dark Will, Hannibal Loves Will, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Will Knows, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12787218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: Will never considered a relationship with anyone. Let alone one that would last. And family was so far from the realm of possibility that it snuck up on him.OrWhat would happen if Will quit after Buddish and he and Hannibal started fucking.





	Mark Me an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I have a general idea of where this is going but all is subject to change.

He can still hear Buddish’s words echoing in his head.

“Except it didn’t sound like him. I saw him. Rejected him. But…”

Will makes a frustrated noise, hanging his head in his hands as he sits back against Hannibal’s desk.

“This becoming you mentioned. Were you rejecting it or were you rejecting Buddish.”

“What do you mean?”

“Buddish wished to make you into his angel. Does the idea of becoming repel you, or did you simply not wish to be his angel.”

“Every angel needs a god to follow.”

“Buddish was not worthy of godhood, then.”

“No,” Will says thoughtfully, “No, he was no god.”

“You mentioned something odd about his voice. What was it?”

Will looks up, meeting Hannibal’s stare. 

“It wasn’t him.”

“What do you mean?”

“His voice. It wasn’t him speaking to me. I saw him, but I heard…”

Hannibal waits.

“I heard you. You spoke to me. Promised me.”

Hannibal rises from his seat, prowling over to Will. Will doesn’t move, not when he reaches him, not when the back of his fingers ghost his cheek and his breath hitches.

“What did I promise you Will?”

“Peace. Beauty. Direction.”

“Stability.”

Will nods shakily.

“You are my friend Will. I wish to provide nothing less.”

Will leans his head onto Hannibal’s shoulder, as though it were the only thing to do.

“I quit the BAU.”

“I am glad to see you taking care of yourself.”

“Jack, he, he tried to manipulate me. Gave me the chance. He didn’t think I’d take it.” 

Hannibal readjusts his stance, moving his hand to the back of his head, leaning his cheek against his curls, “A poor misstep on his part.”

Will laughs, “Yeah. You could say that.” 

“I hope this will not be a goodbye as well.”

“No,” Will says, digging his cheek further into the soft fabric of his suit, “No, I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

“In that case,” Hannibal steps back, his lips curved upwards in a pleased smile, “I’d like to invite you to dinner.”

 

*** 

 

Hannibal refuses to let Will do more than watch Hannibal work and sip some Cabernet Franc. 

Watching Hannibal cook is as much a performance as every aspect of his life and yet it feels like Will is being invited backstage, a glimpse of who Hannibal really is when he is alone. It feels intimate. It doesn’t scare him as much as he’s become accustomed to.

They sit across from each other as they eat. Will’s glass is refilled and he copies Hannibal’s ritual as he drinks. He finds it truly does make the flavors richer. 

“I feel the only thing missing are lit candles,” Will jokes, setting his glass down and picking up his fork.

“Is that what you anticipated?”

“I…anticipated something. You have not fallen short, I assure you.”

Humor wrinkles the corners of his eyes, “While comforting, it does not answer my question.” 

Will’s thoughts pause before the words process and he has to stifle a laugh. “I hardly think such anticipations appropriate doctor.”

“Will, I don’t make it a habit to invite patients over for dinner.”

“If not your patient, then what am I, exactly, to you?”

“You are whatever you allow yourself to be. Whether that be my friend, or something from your anticipations.”

Will is struck speechless at Hannibal’s candor. He hides it by taking his time chewing and swallowing his next bite.

“In any case, I won’t be able to pay for anymore sessions. Me not being with the BAU and all.”

“That will not be a problem for I have not been receiving any pay.”

“I’m not officially your patient.”

“No. The worst we could do is damage my reputation, perhaps fortunately. For I do not hold my reputation above you.”

 

*** 

 

There is a loud bang when Will’s back hits the door.

He gasps. Whether from the sudden roughness or the hands at his waist, he doesn’t know. Maybe both.

One hand tangles in Hannibal’s hair, guiding Hannibal up his neck and eventually allowing him to pull him into a frantic, biting kiss. The other blindly searches for the doorknob and they stumble into the bedroom like drunken fools so wrapped up in each other that it’s a miracle they fall back onto the bed, rather than the floor.

Hannibal kneels over him, erasing the world until it is just the two of them in existence. Will tips his head back, baring his throat for teeth that would be rough on anyone else. But not Hannibal. Somehow, Will knows Hannibal is being gentle for him. 

Efficient hands expose him one button at a time, not stopping until Will has to sit up and throw the shirt off him. He kicks his shoes off. Hannibal does the same as he starts on his belt. 

Before long, they are both naked and Will is above Hannibal. In this moment, as they both gasp for breath, Will feels powerful and excited and happy. He smiles, and for a moment, in his peripheral vision, he sees the shadows of wings beginning to unfurl from his back.

Warm, slick fingers start to prepare him. Time slows, their movements less hurried. Will maps the lines and shadows of Hannibal’s chest and toned stomach. He memorizes him, stores him away for future reference. He doesn’t think he’ll need it anytime soon.

Will never really understood the term lovemaking before. He thought it cheesy, too flowery a term for such a carnal act. He thinks he might understand once Hannibal is inside him. He builds up to a quicker, rougher rhythm. It isn’t too different from his last encounter, but the tangible emotion behind it all is new. He’d never say it out loud, but he thinks that if anything were to warrant the term lovemaking, it would be this. 

 

*** 

 

The following weeks pass in a blissful blur. Together, Hannibal and he build a new routine that now allows them to meet for dinner every other day. Hannibal makes the drive to walk his dogs with him every Friday. Hannibal takes him to his favorite art gallery in Baltimore and Will brings him to his favorite stream. 

Will learns about the orphanage and the scars on Hannibal’s back, about his sister and what was done to her. He tells him about his father and the abuse shouted at him since his mother disappeared. He tells Hannibal about his first dog and how he looked at the poor thing and could only see himself in its eyes. How he snuck him home and took care of him. How his father threw the dog back out to the cold and how he found him the next morning on the way to school, frozen to death. 

It seemed only fair.

Will comes over one night to find Hannibal has snuck Abigail over for dinner. She’s glad to see him and more than happy to tease him for taking their guardianship over her too seriously. Will is just happy to see her smile.

Will is left to his own devices as Hannibal takes Abigail back to the facility. He wanders, admiring the artwork seeping out of every corner of his home, with a glass of whiskey. Hannibal’s stores of alcohol are far better than anything Will is used to. It brings him to the point of clumsiness quicker than he’s expecting, but he isn’t concerned. He often grows clumsy before he’s too drunk and it’s not like he’s afraid of Hannibal finding him in such a state anyways. 

He goes to wash his glass all the same. 

Hannibal returns and Will may be a little drunker than he thought because Hannibal automatically softens at the sight of him and leads him straight to bed. Will attempts at some sloppy kisses. Hannibal indulges him but only long enough to trap him under the covers. 

Will is asleep within moments.

 

*** 

 

Hannibal was already given a key to feed his dogs. That’s why he says it’s silly for Will to have to knock every time he wishes to come over. Will never thought they’d get this far. He never has before.

Hannibal is always the one with the gifts and the visits and Abigail. He wanted to surprise Hannibal for a change. 

He’s surprised.

There is a black man lying dead on the floor and Hannibal is standing over him, looking more disheveled than Will has ever seen outside their bedroom. 

They’ve both frozen at the sight of each other. Will’s heart is beating out of his chest and he can’t find any words. He should call Jack. He knows he should call Jack but then the man isn’t as dead as he thought because he’s kicking Hannibal off his feet and wrapping a wire garrote around his neck. The knife slides out of reach and Will is moving. 

He tackles the man, beats him. Blow after blow, he struggles, but he’s already weak. Weak enough for Will to get his hands around his neck, to crush the life out of him like he was going to Hannibal. 

He can feel his blood pounding in his ears, a deafening sound that grows painful and then dissipates as the man falls limp to the ground. 

He doesn’t remember that he’s not alone until a familiar hand lands on his shoulder, making it sticky with blood. 

“Come Will. Let us get cleaned up.” 

Will nods but he doesn’t feel it. His body has begun to feel light and a pleasant tingling sensation has overcome him. There is no mistaking it. He felt only a fraction of this with Hobbs.

Hannibal leads him to the bath. As he sets the water, Will looks into the mirror.

He sees no injury, but arterial spray drenches him. That isn’t what startles him, nor is it the light in his eyes. No. It’s the giant deer he hasn’t seen in months shrinking and shifting into a mockery of a man that scares him. It’s the way it walks up to his back and trails its fingers across the black wing bones protruding from his back. 

Hannibal takes his hand and they are alone. 

 

*** 

 

Hannibal leaves him in the tub and he takes his bloody clothes with him. He doesn’t return until the water has become cold and a numbness has made Will pliant. Hannibal takes his hand, brings him to his feet, and dries him off. He dresses him in a silk robe identical to his own. 

Will walks back to where he killed a man. The body is gone, as is any sign of struggle. The rug is also missing. He can feel Hannibal hovering behind him, waiting for his reaction.

“Hannibal?”

“You would have been arrested. It was not self-defense. He was subdued, and you continued to butcher him. I did this to protect you.”

“This is…” insane, he thinks. Not the first time he’s done this. “Who was he?” Will asks instead.

“Tobias Budge. He was here to replace the strings on my harpsicord. He confessed to the murder at the theater. I was to be his next victim.”

“Why would he confess?”

“I don’t know,” Hannibal lies. “He was friends with a patient of mine. Perhaps it had something to do with him.” 

Hannibal puts an arm around his shoulder, steering him back up the stairs and to the bedroom, “Come, it has been a stressful day. You can stay here for the night. I’m sure Alana would be willing to look after your dogs on such short notice.” 

“Right,” Will mumbles. He lets Hannibal direct his movements, lay down next to him, and pull him into his arms like it were any other night.

Will lays there, his back to Hannibal’s chest, his mind whirling from everything he’d seen.

In the end, he realizes that he’s never seen Hannibal angry.

 

*** 

 

Will wakes gasping in the middle of the night. He can still feel the blood from his nightmare drowning him, warm and sticky like the sweat sticking to the sheets and to Hannibal, who is holding him and making soothing noises into his hair. 

He can breathe, eventually. And then he has to ask, “Who else?

Who else have you killed Hannibal? You— you were calm during the attack. After it. I can’t—. You’re dangerous, aren’t you? You…”

Hannibal shushes him, pulling him back into his arms, “Hush, angelas. Everything will be alright. I will keep your secrets. You will keep mine. You will never have to fear anything from me.”

Will hides in Hannibal’s chest, clinging to him for the stability he promised him. 

“Who are you?” 

“I am the man who loves you.”

“And me?” he asks, gulping, because despite everything he still feels safest here, under Hannibal’s care.

“You are the man who protected me.”

It’s enough for Will to drift back to sleep.

 

*** 

 

They had fish the night Will saw.

It was Freddie Lounds in the end. Her article displaying the body. Hannibal’s tablet left open in plain sight. Tobias Budge’s body made into the finest instrument for all to see. 

The ripper has started another sounder and they had fish for dinner.

The tablet falls to the ground, cracking on impact but it does not shatter.

“He won’t hurt us,” Abigail says from behind him. 

He jumps. It’s enough to bring the world back into focus. 

“You knew?”

“Not everything.”

“But you knew.”

“He trusts me. He’s trusting us, Will.” 

“You kept this from me.”

“You weren’t ready.”

“And it wasn’t her place to tell,” Hannibal says calmly, making his presence known. He’s as put together as ever which seems wrong considering the circumstances, but at the same time Will can’t imagine him any other way. “I’m telling you now.”

So many thoughts run through his head, so many reactions. He should really call Jack. 

Hannibal’s eyes are warm when Will says, “So tell me.”


End file.
